


'Cause I Missed You

by Dresupi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Break Up, F/M, Feelings, Hipster Loki, Idiots in Love, Kissing, One Shot, Post-Break Up, Prompt Fill, Relationship Negotiation, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Second Chances, Swearing, not a lot, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Loki sniffed disdainfully, glancing around the crowded bookstore.  “We need a new plague.”  Darcy wrinkled her nose.  “Nah.  Too messy.”  And he’d chuckled.  If you could call the expulsion of air a ‘chuckle’.  Maybe that was her mistake.  Acknowledging him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MischiefsLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischiefsLady/gifts).



> For mischiefslady on tumblr, who prompted: "For the 90s prompts Loki/Darcy Stay (I missed you) by Lisa Loeb and smut is totally fine! Hope this is a good prompt, thanks for considering it! :)"
> 
> It was an EXCELLENT prompt, thank you for giving it! <3 
> 
> Link to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Z_H11F7WDI), Lisa Loeb, 1995.
> 
> Special thanks to Leftennant for helping me come up with hipster Loki. ;)

Darcy had met Loki in line for the bookstore.  He had one book under his arm.  One. Compared to the stack in her arms that was probably a third of her actual height. 

He was the stereotypical…whatever he was. Hipster trash?  Che Guevara t-shirt.  Black skinny jeans.  Combat boots.  Hair that was always in his damn face.  Loudly Vegan.

He was trying really hard to look like he didn’t care.  She honestly wouldn’t have given him a second look if he wasn’t constantly engaging her in one-sided conversations.

He’d sniffed disdainfully, glancing around the crowded bookstore.  “We need a new plague.” 

Darcy wrinkled her nose.  “Nah.  Too messy.” 

And he’d chuckled.  If you could call the expulsion of air a ‘chuckle’. 

Maybe that was her mistake.  Acknowledging him. 

Because if she hadn’t answered him?  If she’d just ignored him? She wouldn’t be in this literal hell right now.  Crying in silence on the inside of her closed dorm-room door while he was probably trying to hold his head high as he tried to act like she hadn’t just turned him down for the fifth time this week.     

It was hell because…goddammit, she wanted to give in to him.  If for nothing else than for those few moments when he let down his guard and became someone with whom she enjoyed spending time.

When they were alone, he was wonderful.  He listened to her talk.  He talked to her.  Told her secrets, listened to hers.  He kissed her…told her he thought she was beautiful…made her feel positively giddy and wonderful and all those lovely relationshippy things that made it fun to be with someone.

They made _love_.  Which, sounded completely hokey, and they hadn’t even said the ‘l’ word to each other, but that was absolutely what it was.  It was definitely _hot_ …but it was tender at the same time.  It wasn’t ‘fucking’, that was for sure. 

But the warm fuzzies never lasted. 

They’d go out with her friends or his…and he’d be back to this…aloof caricature of a person.  This weird version of himself that didn’t eat meat and judged anyone who did.  Who didn’t listen to a song if it was produced after 1995.  Who carried around a worn copy of Orwell’s 1984 in his back pocket. 

And she just couldn’t anymore.  The good wasn’t outweighing the bad.  She didn’t want to be some weird public embarrassment for him.  She was sick of him sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes through outings with her friends, only for him to take her to see some stupid slam poetry thing and sit there while his black-turtleneck-wearing-friends sucked _their_ teeth and rolled _their_ eyes at her.

Seriously. Someone needed to tell all of them that the year was 2016 and nobody thought it was cool to look like a beatnik anymore.  One of the dudes had a full beard and a beret for cripes’ sake.  She couldn’t with them. 

And Loki never stuck up for her, just apologized profusely when they were alone.  Told her how smart he thought she was and kissed her until she took off her clothes.  And then he kissed her some more until she forgot she was mad.  Forgot there was anyone else in the world but the two of them.  There was nothing but that thing he did with his tongue.  Goddamn.    

Darcy wiped at her face again, fresh tears fell freely down her cheeks.  She sniffled loudly and got up to grab a tissue.     

She could swear that before she slammed her door in his face, she’d seen tear tracks.  _He’d_ cried.  About her.

That was what was fucking with her.  She wasn’t sure what to believe.  Which one was the real Loki?  Was it the pretentious vegan douche that he was around everyone else?  Or was it the guy she saw when they were alone?  The one who accepted that she ate meat and appreciated that she was making an effort for him? 

Did he just miss the sex?  Or did he actually miss _her_?

She had no way of knowing.  She just knew that she missed him.  Or she missed the person he was when he was around her, anyway. 

The sweet guy who asked her permission when he kissed her the first time.  Who’d given her all the time in the world to get used to him before he attempted to get in her pants.

The guy who ran his fingertips over the stretch marks on the sides of her breasts before hefting them in his hands, paying special attention to each one because once he’d discovered how _sensitive_ her nipples were and after that, they couldn’t have sex without foreplay, because he loved how she looked when she was coming.  When it was _really_ good.  When he’d done everything she liked and as a result, she’d crumbled apart in his arms. 

He’d gone down on her without her asking for it.  He’d just…kissed his way down there and gone to town on her clit and she couldn’t be happier about _that_ aspect of their relationship.

Great.  Now she was sad _and_ horny. 

Because you might not know it by looking at him, but Loki was _great_ in the sack.  And he worked a clit like he was born to do it.    

She sniffed again and blew her nose, tossed the used tissue in the trashcan by her desk. 

There was a soft rap of knuckles on the other side of the door.  “Darcy…please…”

He was still here.  And he sounded just like he had that day…the day she’d ended things. 

They’d been getting coffee with his friends and she’d honestly just had enough. 

One of them made some wise crack about her pumpkin spice latte, and it had taken everything in her power not to chuck her hot coffee all over the one who’d said it. Argus.  That was his name.  He wore glasses ironically, with skinny jeans and chukka boots.    

She’d bit her lip hard and stood up, shouldering her bag and walking towards the door. 

He’d gotten up to follow her.  And she’d rounded on him, tears in her eyes.  “Just once…would it kill you to stand up for me just once?”    

Then Argus had hurled this lovely zinger into the middle of their couple’s quarrel: “Let her go, Loki.  She’s basic anyway.” 

Which, let’s face it…hurt _just_ a little.  More than a little. 

And maybe she _was_ basic.  Maybe that was true.  She did own six pairs of yoga pants, and enjoyed the fall because of sweater weather and pumpkin spiced everything.  

But if that was the case and her basic-icity was a dealbreaker for Loki, then….so be it.  His pretentious douchiness and cowardly refusal to stand up for her in front of his friends was a dealbreaker too.

“Darcy…please…” he’d pleaded with her and she’d pressed her coffee cup into his hands, turned on her heel and left the café. 

And that had been a month ago. 

And he still sounded just as broken now as he had that day. 

She sniffed again and stood up, unlocking and opening the door.  There was no way she was going to invite him in.  Give him a chance to use that silver tongue to apologize.  Get her back in bed and use it between her legs. 

No sir.  She was better than that.  If he wanted back in, it was going to take time.  And a lot of work.  And…he was going to have to grow a pair and defend her to his friends.  And swallow his douchiness and be nice to hers.

“I’ll talk to you.  Not here,” she said briskly.

He looked positively elated.  “Coffee?” 

She nodded, reaching for her purse and following him out into the hall. 

He jammed his hands in his pockets and she had folded her arms across her middle. 

He didn’t say a word until they got to the campus coffee shop.  Until she’d ordered her peppermint mocha and he got his Earl Grey, hot, just like Jean Luc Picard. 

He was stirring his sugar into his tea when he dropped the coffee stirrer and reached for her hand.  “Forgive me.” 

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.  “Why?” 

He frowned.  “What do you mean, why?” 

“Tell me why I should forgive you.  Give me sources.  Citations.  References.  I need to know I’m not going to get hurt again.” 

“I’m not…I’m not hanging out with Argus or any of them anymore.” 

“Oh great.  Side step the problem.  Instead of defending me to your friends, you’ll just stop hanging out with them.  That’s a really awesome idea, Lokes.  Now you can blame _me_ for driving your friends away.” 

“Darcy…” 

She shook her head.  “No. If that’s all you’re going to give me; I don’t accept your apology.  I don’t forgive you.” 

“I thought you hated my friends.” 

“And you hate mine.  But, I’m not going to stop hanging out with them for you.  I will…however, defend you to them if they talk badly about you.  Which…they generally don’t, regardless of the plethora of material you supply them with.  Because they’re polite and not raised in a barn…and you don’t make FUN of people for things that can’t be changed in ten seconds or less.” 

He pressed his lips together.  “Have you ever thought that perhaps I don’t wish to spend time with people who don’t respect you?” 

“Do _you_ respect me?” 

“I do.  I haven’t done the best job of showing it…but I do.  You’re brave…you spent time with a group of people who had nothing nice to say about you…multiple times…for several hours each time…all because of me.  You’re kind and decent.  You’ve never engaged them in any of the horrible things they’ve said to you.  Even though you had reason.  I—I don’t deserve to be with you…I know that.”  He reached for her hands.  “Just give me a second chance…to try.  To actually _try_ this time.  And not just in private.” 

She exhaled noisily, taking a sip of her coffee.  “You have to find your own friends, though.  You can’t just glom onto me.” 

He smiled crookedly, stirring his tea.  “There is a rather…engaging group in my philosophy class.”

“Well.  Go engage them, then.  And…when we’re hanging out with my friends…try to be nice to them…okay?”

“I will.  I promise.  I don’t dislike them, Darcy.”

“Well.  You certainly fooled me.”      

He reached for her hand again.  “Darcy…do _you_ forgive me?  I will apologize to each of your friends, individually for my behavior regardless, but do you forgive me?  Can you?” 

“I’m…I’m sure I could be convinced.” 

He gripped her hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.  “That’s all I ask.  A chance to convince.” 

She tugged on his hand and pulled him closer to her in the booth, pressing her lips to his briefly before situating herself closer to him, pulling her bag and her coffee down in front of her.  She felt him noticeably relax beside her, draping his arm across the back of the booth behind her.  “So…” she cleared her throat.  “Read anything good?  Please don’t say _1984_ again…” 

He chuckled.  A real chuckle, this time.  Not just an expulsion of air.  “I actually read that book you recommended…” 

“Which one?  _The Monk_?  Or _Ender’s Game_?” 

“No…actually…uh… _Fangirl_?”

“You’re shitting me…” she checked his shoulder with hers.  “Why’d you read that trash?” 

“Because I thought you liked it…and I wanted to have something to talk to you about.” 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong…I love that book.  I’m just…surprised.” 

“Well…good,” he said with a grin.  “I aim to surprise you more often.” 

Darcy leaned over to kiss his cheek.  He wasn’t perfect.  Not by a long shot.  But he was trying, right?  That should count for something.    

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/)!


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